


On The Fifth Day of Christmas, Azazel Gave To Me (five months to live)

by Wolfstar4evr



Series: Twelve Days Of Supernatural Christmas [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alone Dean, Angst, As you may have guessed, Hurt/No Comfort, Sad Dean, Sam ain't in this one, Stubborn Dean, Upset Dean, Worried Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:14:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5477633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfstar4evr/pseuds/Wolfstar4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>18th of December 2007 and Dean finds himself alone for a while, and he allows himself to finally worry about the fact he doesn't have long left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Fifth Day of Christmas, Azazel Gave To Me (five months to live)

Dean is not suicidal.

Dean doesn't want to die.

Dean doesn't want to go to Hell.

But he's going to. In less than _five fucking months_ he's going to. And he knows it's stupid; he knows he shouldn't be like this because _this is a choice he made_. This is something he _wanted_ : to save Sam no matter the consequences. But now Sam's gone out to god knows where (probably the library; he's such a fucking nerd) and Dean is alone and he's going to hell and it hurts and he's going to die and he's _dying_.

That's irrational. He's not dying. Yeah, sure, his heart's beating way too fast to be normal and he feels like something's stuck in his throat which means he can't swallow properly and he can barely breathe, but he isn't _dying_. But, hey, what about the Winchesters is _rational_ , anyway? John destroyed his family's life in a mad hunt for revenge. Sam destroyed his own future for the same revenge. Dean sold his soul to bring his brother back to life and then _got_ the revenge, for all three of them. So who needs rational? Sam is alive and kicking, and sure he's upset and cries every other fucking minute, but apart from that... He's _fine_.

Okay, so Dean might be... Slightly drunk? No, more like so shitfaced he can barely stand which is why he's crouched in the dirty and cramped space between the toilet and the sink in a position that's not making the whole breathing thing any easier. His elbows hurt where they're bumping into grimy porcelain. His head is pouding from the alcohol. His palms hurt from his nails. His throat hurts too, but he can't remember if he's been screaming or not, and that, in his drunken and depressed and confused state, is sort of mind blowing. In a weird way.

His knees are wet, and it takes a minute to proccess but he realises that the sink isn't leaking. His face is wet too. Jesus, has he been _crying_? What the fuck? His hands are shaking too, so maybe he has. Also, he's almost passing out he's so tired and he's not sure how much longer he can keep this up, this sitting and brooding shit. It's kinda hurting. 

There is a long moment, a very long moment, where in Dean's mind he imagines that he's attempting to stand, but it's hard and he needs to grip to the sink to help. However when he blinks he's still huddled by the sink and his legs feel as dead as they did two minutes ago. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Maybe he should wait for Sam to get back. Maybe he should just sit there until his baby brother is 'home' and there to take care of him... No. Even in his druken state Dean knows that Sam shouldn't be looking after him; _he_ looks after _Sam_.

It takes even longer than when he imagined it, but after a while, and with a death grip on the sink, Dean manages to haul himself into a standing position. His vision is blurry and he can barely stand upright let alone _walk_ , but he does manage to make his way to a bed. It might be his; it might be Sam's, and at this point he really doesn't care. There's another bed, and it's not like Dean's been having sex lately, so Sammy should be fine.

It's surprising that once he's collapsed fully dressed - jacket and boots and everything - on top of the bed spread. The pillow is softer than usual (although that might be the booze working its way through his mind), and he can barely keep his eyes open, but even though they're closed a tear still manages to escape. Just one, though. No more than that, because if he lets more than one tear escape then he will break. He will break down into great wracking sobs and he can't handle that. He's not allowed to break down over a choice that he made, over something he _chose_ to do. He can't do that. He can't cry. He can't break. He can't go to Hell. He doesn't want to go to Hell.

It's just _not fair_.


End file.
